Search This Blog

Posts

you can get almost anything but jumping up and down in the kind of excitement only a five-year-old at Christmastime has (which I can also muster at this time of year; my dad saw me hopping joyfully around some Christmas cards at the store and said, "Anything that makes you jump and down like that, I'll buy for you." I think that only applies to Christmas things though:) ) Thanksgiving is better when you actually like Thanksgiving food (why I didn't like potatoes, stuffing, and turkey in past years, I do not know) you can never have too many pies (especially when your sister-in-law is the pie-making champion of the world) nothing brings Christmas cheer like wrapping everything in your house in Christmas paper whenever I see Africans, I have to talk to them and see where they are from and if they're selling something, buy things from them Temple Square gets prettier every year (or at least maintains its standard aura of glowing beauty with simple …

So. Gratitude is the bomb. Because it helps you be happy and stuff. And because we usually concentrate our thankful hearts in the time that
precedes Christmas (a.k.a. the most wonderful time of the year
) which makes it even better.

But back to Thanksgiving and gratitude goodness because that’s this week
and that’s what this post regards. And by that, I mean I meant to make a smooth transition from that awkward
first almost-paragraph to a list about things and people and ideas and beliefs I’m
grateful for, but I failed with that so…we’re just going to start now. In a
random order.

·Food. Like Spinach and
cucumbers and salsa (which compose most of my diet) along with bread, ice
cream, soup, brownies, zucchini, and all
things pumpkin·My family. They didn’t
purposefully come after food by the way. But I do tend to enjoy food with them. Anyways, they’re great. I
have the most kindred, thoughtful, intelligent parents ever (ever in my
existence, I mean) and the dearest, most talented brothers…

I consumed a
healthy dose of derogatory quotes about women this week while studying society 1950s
and writing a paper about love and marriage in the 17th century. It started
with things like this from Luther:

“The entire female body was created for the purpose of
nurturing children” and “Women
are not created for any other purpose than to serve and to be his [man’s]
assistant in producing children.” And Then Life Magazine from the 1950s came along
and said, “Of all the accomplishments of the American woman, the one
she brings off with the most spectacular success is having babies.” Followed by “Books
and babies don’t mix.”

Nothing sets me off like me off like preconceived, accepted notions that are so
obviously offensive yet apparently not for their time. Although I
often talk about the many men in my head (like Hobbes, Napoleon, Machiavelli,
Marx, Tolstoy, etc), there are plenty of women-folk up there too who just go berserk
when anything slightly anti-feminist comes up. They sure know
ho…

This week we had fewer mouse catching adventures (our single quest involved almost catching Geraldine in a cup after cornering her in our room, but the sneaky rascal leapt out and we haven’t seen her since then). Maybe it’s because I was less focused protecting myself from mice this week, but I think our apartment's anxiety levels are increasing with the nearing end of the semester and complications of life (validated also by my stressed freshmen, so I know it’s not just us). Because nothing says vulnerability like consuming a whole package of oreos in day. Not that I did that or anything. I speak purely hypothetically, right? Other sure hypothetical signs of inner turmoil? (as if there is anything sure about the hypothetical world) -half eaten pans of brownies -rearranged furniture -empty boxes of oreos -clean kitchens (note: contrary to popular belief, this is not a sign of I-have-it-all-together-ness) -late night conversations -experimental coo…

This week
was pretty exciting. If you
consider an ongoing and escalating battle
with mice exciting that is. Which I
do, though it’s definitely not my favorite type of excitement. You see,
our room recently became home to a family of mice. When we spotted the first
one last week, we thought he was kind of cute and affectionately named him Herbert. The cuteness factor soon
became irrelevant though as he began making noisy night escapades, chewing a
hole through my backpack, scaling a closet wall to reach Kathryn’s chocolate
from England, and exploring the tissues and wrappers of our garbage can. Let me
tell you, waking up to sounds of chewing and gnawing from somewhere in your
room is not a pleasant experience. It
may cause the following: Futilely
hoping your roommate is just hungry and is nibbling on a cookie or something
but realizing the chewing is coming from different parts of the roomFearfully
screaming when a mouse jumps out of the garbage can as you get up to
investigate the suspi…